They used to Call me Smiley
by Invader Skrabb
Summary: Based on Heath Ledger's Joker. You wanna know how I got these scars? A hopefully creepy story about how Joker REALLY got his scars. Aided by the Joker Blogs. Rated T for strong language


**They Used to Call me Smiley**

_Keep your head down._

_Don't speak._

_Maybe they won't notice._

But of course, they did, even the densest among them. How do you not notice scars like that? No stitches for them yet though, maybe next week. If my mother ever got over her monstrous hang over, which by now I'm beginning to realise is probably permanent. My face hurt, but the new smile gave nothing away. If I wasn't still in shock, I would maybe laugh.

_Jessica_, I thought immeadiatly, _Jessica wouldn't stare. She loves me. She'll understand._

In school, I was one of the popular ones. You know, one of the good looking ones. With a respectable social status. My girlfriend was Jessica Kopski, for god's sake! Sure, she wasn't the, you know, brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, but she was beautiful. But she was smart in other ways, if you know what I mean.

I walked towards the locker room, touching my scars self consciously as people whispered and pointed._ It's rude to point._

My face stung under my touch. I saw in my minds eye, the hideously jagged crevices, reaching up to my ears. How they bled. How my mother cried and my father –

_No, don't go there. Not now._

My mind was fuzzy with the pain. But I knew I could make it through the hurt. I wouldn't let my father win. I'd make it through. I'd become normal again.

I reached the lockers, and tried not to notice the people backing away from me. I knew I looked fierce. But all I cared about was seeing Jessica again. seeing the one girl who'd understand. Who'd still love me.

I saw the back of her head, her golden hair curled and gorgeous, as usual, reaching the bottom of her shoulder blades. She was talking to a couple of her friends, laughing away. Then her two friends spotted me, and their jaws dropped in horror. A terrible gasp, shrinking the rest of my confidence, escaped the two. Jessica turned around and met my eyes. I could see a smile about to form, but then her eyes rested on my scars.

"Oh, my god!" she screamed, her hands slapping to her mouth.

"Jessica," I began, and the smile hurt so badly, "I know it looks bad. But I love you, and—"

Jessica was shaking her head, tears forming, and I grasped her hands, "I love you, Jessica. I'm still the same guy."

"Get away from me!" she screeched, jumping backwards and into the safe circle of her friends.

My eyes widened, and hands dropped to my sides, "What?"

"You, you _freak_!" she squealed, shaking her head in dismay, "We're over!"

My heart plummeted to the very floor, and as she ran away, I tried to call after her. But my voice cracked, and salty tears stung the scars and entered the crevices.

I saw everyone staring, and I roared, "What the hell are you looking at?!"

I stormed off and snarled, "I'm not gonna be like this forever! I'll have stitches! I'll be fine! You'll see!"

* * *

A month came and went. Then two. Then three. Nothing. No stitches. No help. Just pain. I had become a sort of... outcast. My "friends" left me. My girlfriend dumped me. Now, I ate alone and sat in class alone. I was a lower class. People still stared. No one cared who I used to be. Now I'm just the ugly freak with the scars. People come up and ask me about them all the time. I changed the story every time, but it was blunt, usually just one word answers.

Ever since the incident, I had kept a pocket knife on me at all times. It was a comforting thing to have. It was, now that I think about it, the only thing I did have anymore. It made me feel safe. Whenever I thought about it, I gripped the knife. I could still see my father's grinning face –

_No, don't go there. Not now._

I sighed as someone passed me by in the cafeteria, and scratched my cheek in an effort to cover the scars. My hands fidgeted, looking for something to grasp. I noticed that I had become a lot more restless after the incident. I couldn't sleep, and when I did I had nightmares. Watching the incident again and again, on permanent repeat. As if my waking hours weren't bad enough.

My mother could hardly look at me. My father was gone. I was completely alone. Can you imagine what I felt like? Do you have any idea how it feels to live with someone who can't even look you in the face? To be picked on about something you can't change? To look at yourself in the mirror and see nothing but some ugly freak? To wake up with blood on your pillow?

"Hey, look!" came an all too familiar voice from behind me, deep and dumb sounding, "It's Smiley!"

I turned around and looked up at the guy talking to me. Bob Anderson. He was tall, and had never quite grown out of his baby fat. His hair was as usual, matted with grease, which stuck to his big forehead. He wore a simple grey t shirt, and shorts, showing off his hairy legs. He had a stupid smile and a dull ape like expression in all. Back up by his friends, which ranged from tall to short to fat and stick thin, he was a fearless brute.

"Hey Smiley," he leered, and his friends laughed with him, a dreary chorus of _duh huh huhs'_, "How you doin'? Happy as always!"

He sat down opposite me and I wrinkled my nose, "Jesus, Bob. Take a bath."

He snorted, rolled his small eyes. I gripped my pocket knife, taking comfort in the solidity of the plastic and metal. _Safe, comfortable._

"Whatever man," he shrugged, "I don't care."

"Then why are you here?" I asked, "I really am in no mood to spend time with brutish morons like you."

Then, he reached out and struck me across the face. I yelled out as pain darted from the scars. I gripped the knife harder.

_No, don't go there. Not now._

"I came to ask ya somethin'," Bob said, completely ignorant to the memories which had just broke the surface of my memories, "I wanna know how you got that ugly gob! And I wanna know the truth. You change the story everytime. Tell me, I'm your buddy!"

His friends chorused that annoying laugh again.

My eyes slit, and I looked Bob in the eye, "You wanna know? You really wanna know how I got them?"

He nodded, grinning that stupid smile of his. I leaned forward, across the table, until I was nose to nose with the brute, "If you had even the slightest idea of what really happened to me, Bob," I whispered, "it'd give you nightmares. You'd run and hide."

"What happened?" he asked, trying to look unruffled. A pathetic ruse.

"I had a bad day," I said quietly. And with that, I stood up from the table and left.

* * *

The same night, as I was walking through Gotham Park, I watched kids playing on the swings. The night air was cold in the midst of winter. My breath frosted in the air, as did theirs. I always found it peaceful in the park. The one place where I could be alone. Where I could watch innocence. The only type of innocence which actually has a place in this world. A child's innocence.

But god knows I'm not a child anymore. Three month ago, I was still a mere child. Naive. Always trying to make people laugh. But now... now I'm different. But still... at least I'm always smiling.

Huh. A joke. I'd actually just made a joke. Ha. The first joke I've made in... ha. Ha ha. Hahaahhahaha!

"Hahahahahahahahhahhahaaaa!" I laughed by myself until my sides hurt.

"Oh my god, Smiley!"

Shit.

Bob came stumbling over with his friends and I stood up. He reeked of alcohol and held beer in his hand.

"You know you have to be twenty one to drink in this country, don't you?" I said, and found myself smiling, "That's illegal."

"Smiley... smiles," he punched me, right across the jaw, and I stumbled backwards, giggling. He came forward and punch me in the stomach, "Why you laughin' Smiley? Why you laughin'? f- fag! Faggot!"

I couldn't stop laughing, I was bent over, and I stumbled backwards, "S- sorry!" I gasped, holding up my hand, "Sorry! I, I just remembered the punch line!"

"What...? P- puny bastard!" all his friends were either laughing, on the ground, or either vomiting.

My laughs became high pitched, and kind of... clownish.

_Clown._

"You, you wanna hear the joke, Bobby?" I grinned, standing up, "Y- you wanna know the joke?!"

"S- sure!" he laughed, merrily.

I took out my pocket knife.

Then, I walked forward, grabbed the back of his head and put the knife to his mouth. His friends were too drunk to notice. His eyes went wide and he tried to pull away, but he was far to drunk to get away from me. And he wouldn't.

"Awk. Why so serious, Bobby? Hm? Why so serious? So, you wanna hear the joke? It begins with how I got these scars. You wanna know how I got these scars?"

Bobby shook his head, "N- no. No."

"I'll tell you anyway." My voice turned very quiet now, "So, when I was a kid, I used to love to go fishing at camp. But I never could get those... little worms on the hook. That's not the sad part. So one day, these bullies decide to show me how it's done. And they take the fishing rods and they take me out to the end of the dock, and they stick hooks in my mouth, right there. And then they pushed me into the water. And reel me back in. Just like a fish. Y'know what I did then? I burnt their cabin down. While they slept. And they _roasted_! And I never did have any problems with those little worms again." *

Bob was crying by now, "G- god. Just leave me al- alone,"

"No." I hissed, "No, I won't. I'm not going to. Here's the punch line,"

And I slit his throat and he fell to the ground and I laughed and laughed until my sides hurt. His friends had run away by this point, and I called after them through fits of laughter, "And by the way! It isn't Smiley anymore! It's The Joker!"

* * *

**Short, I know. But I'm going through a heavy writers block, I'm lucky I even wrote this much!**

***So I took this from The Joker Blogs on youtube. I had to use it! And I know he was talking about when he was a kid and that wouldn't coincide with when he actually got the scars, but Bob was completely pissed! He wouldn't have noticed! GO AND WATCH THE JOKER BLOGS ON YOUTUBE. THEY ARE SCARY AS HELL AND AMAZING.**

**Review please! :3 I'd really appreciate it! I need criticism to help me get past this writers block! THANKS! ^W^**


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